


Consequences

by apatheticskeleton



Category: Villainous (Cartoon)
Genre: Bruises, Concussions, Knifeplay, Rape/Non-con Elements, Unconscious Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:00:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27869569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apatheticskeleton/pseuds/apatheticskeleton
Summary: Black Hat is on a mission. The mission? To perform an unspeakable act upon Dr. Flug. When he finds Flug asleep during work hours, he now has a reason to carry out his actions.
Kudos: 7





	Consequences

**Author's Note:**

> Upon request, a follow-up chapter is in progress.

The click of expensive dress-shoes reverberates down the empty hallway at an alarming pace, the wearer seething. 

His coat flaps behind him, hat perched precariously upon his head.  
Anger radiates from this figure and is quite obvious as the tiles cannot help but tremble as they are graced with solid soles pounding heavily atop them. 

As the figure rounds a corner, an open door is made visible. Inside of the space a desk can be seen, a plaque upon it reading:  
Black Hat, Boss.

Click-clack-Click-clack. Click- 

This figure who is presumably Black Hat, Boss, stops at a brass doorknob tucked in the wall, its door hardly noticeable against the mahogany paneling lining the hall.  
He grabs the handle and wrests the door open, halting smugly in the doorway. 

His eyes gleam with cruel intent as he gazes upon his obvious target.  
A man, slouched at a desk. He’s lanky, limbs hanging at his sides. It’s apparent that he’s sleeping.

Black Hat steps forward, avoiding blueprints, papers, documents, and the like, creeping towards the man. 

“Oh Dr. Flug,” he says, and I’d be inclined to believe that the man is in fact Dr. Flug.  
Flug’s head shoots up, his chair spinning around to face Black Hat, who is much too close for Flug’s liking. 

Flug throws up his hands, gesturing quickly. “I’m terribly sorry sir, I got so sleepy, and I-“

Black Hat grins and forces the man’s hands down to his sides, holding them there.  
“I see that. Now I have justification for what I’m going to do, but oh, when is there not justification, what with you always existing as such a miserable failure?” 

Flug’s eyes go downcast, staring fearfully at the constrictive grasp his boss has upon him.  
“Sir, please, this won’t happen again,” Flug whispers. 

“And I’ll see to it that it won’t,” Black Hat hisses in return, spinning Flug’s chair right back ‘round to where the man’s back faces him once more. Flug, relieved at what he believes to be Black Hat’s retreat, goes to pick up a pen, but is grabbed by his collar and slammed chest first onto the desk. 

He grimaces, whimpering at the force of the motion.  
Black Hat laughs as Flug does nothing to resist, lying limp on the desk.  
“You really are something aren’t you? Does being pushed around like this turn you on, Dr.? I would’ve thought you’d have resisted, but it seems that a loner like yourself will take anything he can get.”

Where at first Flug simply wants to exist as quietly as possible and take whatever chastisement Black Hat deems appropriate so as not to anger him any further, it now clicks as to just what “punishment” Black Hat has plans for with him leaning over a desk.  
Flug grits his teeth and kicks wildly back at Black Hat, who reacts by cracking Flug’s head against the wood of the desk.  
Automatically Flug slumps down again, groaning at the pain. Surely this is considered a concussion. 

“It wouldn’t have happened if you’d have just stayed still, Dr.,” Black Hat hisses, rubbing circles on the man’s back with one hand and removing his own belt and trousers with the other. 

Flug can hear the clack of metal against metal, and he processes what that means in the now swimming depths of his brain. 

Black Hat is going to rape him. 

This thought, this firm admittance of what is about to occur sends Flug into another frenzy, or at least an attempted one.  
As he tries to squirm, Black Hat chuckles to himself and is already yanking Flug’s jeans off with little care.  
Flug whimpers loudly, not at the pain now, that’s hardly the main issue at this point, hardly the focus. He whimpers at the fear, the shame. 

“N-no. N-n-no,” Flug manages to choke out, the only word wracking his overwhelmed brain. Black Hat laughs wickedly. “Spread ‘em wide, for your own sake.”  
Flug doesn’t quite understand what this means, but feels his legs being pried apart.  
“Tell me what you’re thinking in that supposedly intelligent brain of yours, huh Flug? Give me something to work with,” Black Hat says, preparing his own erection. 

There isn’t a response. 

“You’ll answer me when I say you will, Flug!” Black Hat yells, and draws a knife from his coat. He slides it across the man’s back.  
The sensation of a blade across the skin is similar to what one might imagine an ice skater’s blades would be across a patch of ice.  
A swift motion, a gash in the surface.  
The pain which follows as this gash is created in Flug’s skin has the man howling, awakening from the foggy daze that had caused him to go quiet.  
Black Hat grins at the laceration he’s created, at the blood pooling in the inch wide cut. He doesn’t harp any longer on the question he attempted to ask, he simply readies his erection once more and drives into Flug.  
Flug makes an awful choking sound, and tries to grip at the desk as Black Hat pounds into him. Flug’s entire form tenses at this intrusion, and he begins to sob at the excruciating pain racking his body.  
There can’t be a justification for this, it can’t be possible. He was simply napping, it was an honest mistake! The moans of apparent pleasure Black Hat exhibits as he desecrates the poor man before him cause Flug even more anguish. This isn’t supposed to happen to him, not like this. Never like this. Black Hat grips at Flug’s thighs, surely leaving contusions.  
This firm hold and the quick, consistent motion of Black Hat’s pounding provide Flug’s body time to find what it will do with itself, and to his horror, he feels a rush of pleasure in his lower stomach.  
He squirms, grinding his teeth.  
Black Hat smiles to himself. “Good boy, that’s a good boy, Dr.”  
Flug moans loudly then gasps, not believing he had made such a noise.  
“I see,” Black Hat growls, grinning widely.  
Flug squirms, yet allows his head to rest on the table, his paper bag soggy with tears and spittle.  
Black Hat releases Flug’s thighs to favor sliding his hands up the man’s shirt. Flug grimaces, yet thankful that Black Hat has remained in his vaguely human form. The lewd sounds and heavy panting behind him alert Flug to this possible end. He sighs in relief as Black Hat’s movements stutter, and passes out with a wretched grin upon his face.


End file.
